


Angelcake (You Wish I Was Your Pound Cake)

by littlenoona



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Feminization, Hair Pulling, M/M, insecure!harry, sub!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlenoona/pseuds/littlenoona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started, incidentally when Harry was hanging out with Lou and Gemma, and he'd started painting his nails out of boredom. The polish was soft, peachy pink and almost nude and thin enough that one coat really wasn't that visible unless he was up close to someone. Later that night, while Harry and Louis were watching a film, Louis held up Harry's hand and peered at it, curious.</p><p>this a gift for the eternally lovely littlehazspoon, inspired by the prompt: whatever you think happened in Dallas that made Harry go all floaty and fucked. Sub!Harry is my only request for this one. Coming untouched, having Harry give Louis a blowjob, having Louis rim Harry and/or having Louis call Harry a girl or any pet names would be great but not a must.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angelcake (You Wish I Was Your Pound Cake)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinzouosasageyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinzouosasageyo/gifts).



> this was my first attempt at writing anything m/m that was actually explicit. it took me a little longer than expected. hope you all like it. 
> 
> TITLE CREDIT: FLAWLESS REMIX - BEYONCE. (also, because my inner headcanon that lou calls harry angelcake bc he's both an angel and has a really cute butt)

America is a strange and interesting place. He's really rather fond of it, really. The fans are fun, really creative and chill, sometimes. And there are hotels, a lot of hotels, and he's fond of hotels because Louis gets to stay with him, and whenever Louis stays with him Harry feels like he actually has some semblance of normalcy in his life.

They've gone to Dallas for promotional purposes, which means a lot of walking and talking and doing things that don't involve relaxing and sleeping, or having Louis touch Harry when he thought no one else was looking. Though he did that regardless. Some days were better than others, some days Louis' fingers just brushed against Harry's briefly and other days Louis would be a possessive little monster, holding onto him and whispering horrible, terrible things in his ear.

_("Did you wear those for me, princess?" "Maybe if you keep it down I'll let you come later." "Do you want me to fuck that little hole, angel?" "Put that mouth to good use.")_

Harry sunk into the bath, pink water swirling around him in the tub. He rather liked this hotel room. The blinds were thick enough to keep out light, and by light he meant nosy people, which was all he wanted. In this hotel room, they could be _HarryandLouis_. They didn't have to be anything other than two normal people outside of these four walls. Outside, they were Harry! Louis! Look here! Sign this! I love you!

Baths were his favorite place, because in the bath they were only one person, two halves of something bigger. And even if he was alone, if he poured some of Louis' soap in the water, he could close his eyes and pretend Louis was with him too.

*

It started, incidentally when Harry was hanging out with Lou and Gemma, and he'd started painting his nails out of boredom. The polish was soft, peachy pink and almost nude and thin enough that one coat really wasn't that visible unless he was up close to someone. Later that night, while Harry and Louis were watching a film, Louis held up Harry's hand and peered at it, curious.

"Do you like to paint your nails, princess?"

 _Princess_. Harry's cheeks flushed, and the rest of the guys were asleep in the back, on their bunks, oblivious, but he still felt vulnerable and exposed. He wasn't a _princess_. He wasn't a girl, and he shouldn't have liked the praise or the pet name but there he was, growing hard in his trackies because Louis was kissing his neck and telling him he was pretty.

*

Harry liked _pretty_ things. He liked being _pretty_.

He didn't just like how they looked, though he did enjoy the aesthetic to a certain degree. Harry liked how they made him _feel_. He started shaving his legs and arms because he liked feeling the soft sheets underneath his body whenever they stopped somewhere for the night. It made him feel ethereal and like he was something special. (Granted, Harry knew that most people thought he was special, but sometimes it was difficult for him to feel that way. And doing that always made him feel relaxed, soft and sleepy and pliant.)

Shaving and dipping into the bath was, for Harry, a special time. It was his time to feel special and adored, to love himself. He loved so many other people. He spent all his time showing kindness to everyone else, and he didn't mind it at all.

Harry was, by nature, a very kind and loving person, and very giving, and selfless. All he wanted was for other people to be happy too. He didn't take very good care of himself, was the thing, and learned the importance of self-care and self-love after he spent a whole night crying over what people were saying about him online. After that, he realized that he couldn't love other people if he didn't love himself, take care of himself, adore himself first.

So, shaving was how he did that. He would buy bath fizzlers and bombs from cosmetic stores whenever he hung out with Lou or Gemma. He bought soft lotions, cherry blossom and champagne and strawberries. And candles, too. A lot of candles. After a long day, Harry would return to the hotel (or his flat) and fill the tub about three quarters of the way with warm soap and swished it around a little, then lit some candles and put on a heady record, some old love song that would serve as the perfect backdrop. And he'd drop the small ball in the tub and watch the colors diffuse, rich purples and soft greens and bright pinks and blues. He would undress and set out clothes for himself afterwards, and then fall asleep with a nice movie playing on the telly.

The night Louis found out was really like any other night off tour. Louis was hanging out with Zayn, Liam was with his girlfriend and Niall was hanging out with Ed. And Harry was alone, happily and gratefully alone. He loved being alone, sometimes, because it meant that all he had to think about was himself, and making himself happy. He'd had a bit of a stressful day out, paps swarming on him when all he wanted to do was go to lunch with his sister and feel normal for once.

He'd been in the bath for some time already, leg propped up on the edge of the tub as he brought the razor against his skin, smiling at the silky smoothness it left behind. Harry rinsed it out and brought it down again, humming softly. He felt so calm, so happy and at peace with himself and he loved it. He was reveling in the scent in the room - strawberries and cream and a splash of whatever Louis used in the shower - so much so that he didn't hear Louis enter the flat at all. Harry wasn't aware of him until he caught him staring at him in the doorway. Harry's leg slipped back into the tub as he sunk down, face flush.

Louis was already stripping down, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans down his legs. Harry smiled, biting his lip underneath the water. He watched Louis walk over, moving in the tub to make room for him. He keened softly when Louis wrapped his arms around his body, sighing.

"I missed you today, angelcake," he murmured softly, hand dipping into the water. "What have you done today? Hm? Gotten yourself pretty for Daddy?"

"Yes," he whispered, eyes closed. He sighed when Louis ran his hands up and down his thighs, settling on his lap with a soft, gentle smile. "Do you like it?" He'd always feared Louis' reactions to the things he did. Like one day, Louis would look at him and leave him because he was too feminine, or too girly, or not enough of a man for him.

"Of course." Louis started to stroke him underneath the water, but stopped short. Harry's cheeks flushed as he sunk a little, embarrassed. Louis didn't want this, didn't want him, didn't - "Where's the razor, poppet?"

"What?"

"I'd like to shave you, hm? Get you nice and soft."

Harry nodded, panting and breathing softly as Louis dragged the razor against him slowly, nosing at his wet curls and lapping at his skin.

(He rode him after that, and Louis called him his pretty princess when he came. Harry hasn't been able to stop shaving since.)

*

Harry wasn't allowed to play without Louis.

Okay, not that he wasn't allowed, but he didn't like to, because he always dropped so low and felt so sad and depressed and empty afterwards, so he'd imposed that rule on himself. And sometimes Louis was gone for days. Days without Louis' touch, or kisses, or anything else. He whined quietly, rocking down on his two fingers. It was cold outside, and he knew rationally that it couldn't be as hot in the room as he thought it was. He was sweating, hair sticking to his cheeks and temples as he sat in a pile of fluffy white comforters.

Louis had been on holiday with his family for a week.

Harry hadn't actually felt Louis for nine days. Nine. For Harry, who had grown used to Louis cooing and preening at him multiple times a night for what felt like an eternity (though in reality couldn't have been more than a few years), it felt almost absurd. He was grown, kind of. He could take care of himself, and to a certain extent that really was true. Harry was the one who cooked, and cleaned, and kept Louis from starving to death, but Louis...

Well, Louis was sunshine, the silver lining in the clouds that tried to budge their way into Harry's happy little world. When Harry was sad, Louis would, if it was in his power, drop everything and tug him into his lap, card his fingers through his hair and tell him it was okay to cry. He was the one who would defend Harry and protect him from others, the one who nurtured him and made him feel like he was special.

And Harry wasn't quite sure what to do without Louis around. At first, he was kind of happy. Sometimes they needed space, like any other normal couple. And he was messy, and every time Harry cleaned, Louis somehow managed to mess it all up again. After a day or so of not having to clean up after him, Harry felt a little sad. And he had no one to cook with, even though all Louis actually did was taste test and dip his fingers into pots and pans when he thought Harry wasn't looking.

(But Harry was always looking for him, was the thing. Even from the start, always wanted to look at him and after him because Louis was probably the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.)

Harry's fingers crooked up inside him, searching futilely for that spot. Louis always knew what he needed, was the thing. He always had him a babbling, crying mess in two minutes flat, even without even breaking a sweat. And while Harry was used to opening himself for Louis if he asked him to, or maybe putting a plug in if Louis would be away for a day or two, but this was too hard. He didn't have Louis' hands, his finesse, his patience. He collapsed onto his front, crying into a pillow.

Louis wouldn't be home for five more days.

What the hell was Harry supposed to do with himself? He could barely even remember where Louis kept their (his) toys, knew they were somewhere, but he felt like it was too late to try to seek them out. He'd found the lube, painstakingly, after two hours of tearing apart their bedroom - it was in Louis' bedside draw, go figure - and he wasn't about to spend another two hours looking for a cheap imitation of what he actually wanted.

His phone rang and Harry stopped short, staring at it tossed carelessly on the wooden surface of his bedside drawer. Had it been any other ringtone, Harry would have ignored it. And had his phone been on silent, he probably wouldn't have heard it, either. His hand scrambled to answer it, chest tight.

_Lemme put on a show for you, daddy, lemme put on a show._

_"Hey, H."_

Harry preened, breaths leaving him heavily. He didn't know how to form words properly, smiling a little. They'd talked almost every day, but mostly by texts. They played voice mail tag quite often, but this was the first actual real phone call they'd had since he'd treated his family to a two week beach holiday overseas.

"Lou," he breathed, fingers probing slowly. "Hi, Daddy."

 _"I miss you."_ His voice was simple and low and genteel, made him want to melt into goo. "We've been having the best time, you know?" Louis talked about the coast, and the water. He talked about the tourist shops, and some of the fans that met up with him randomly, how his sisters liked the sand and how he got sunburn on his nose. Harry's breath hitched as he almost, almost reached that spot, rocking slowly. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry whined a little, gnawing on his bottom lip.

_"What are you doing?"_

The tone in Louis' voice made it obvious that he knew, of course. How couldn't he know? Harry's cheeks burned as he lifted his face out of the pillow slightly, sighing.

"Nothing," he mumbled. "Just, you know, um, getting r-ready for bed."

_"It's only five in the afternoon, Harry. Are you not well? Have you been eating too much? Are you not sleeping?"_

"No! No, I just, ah - oh."

 _"Just what, princess?"_ Louis knew, and Harry's cheeks burned as he rubbed it against the soft white pillow. _"Stop."_

"But, Daddy - "

 _"I said stop, angel."_ Harry collapsed when he drew his fingers out slowly, drying them against the covers. _"Who's hole is that?_ "

"Your hole," he mumbled, gnawing on his bottom lip.

_"Am I home?"_

"No, Daddy."

_"Are you playing with something that isn't yours?"_

"Yes."

 _"Are you going to be a good boy and wait until I come home, angelcake?"_ he cooed softly, making Harry melt into bed. _"Hm?"_

(That was probably the most difficult thing Harry ever had to do, but it was worth it when Louis came home. They left no hard surface untouched. It was magic. Harry actually took a sick day because he literally couldn't walk, blissed and fucked out of his mind.)

*

"Haz!" Louis called out.

Harry sunk further into the tub, closing his eyes. Maybe if he hid, he wouldn't have to go out, could stay in his little _HazandLou_ bubble. He felt his chest grow tight and hot and warm the longer he stayed underneath the warm water, trying to keep his knees from poking out and shooting out of the water from lack of air. Everything sounded muddled and confusing. And then it got silent. Which meant that Louis wasn't there, probably. Harry poked his head out, taking deep breaths.

"There you are, princess," Louis hummed, kissing Harry's temple. He turned his head for a kiss, which Louis gave him kindly, brushing his wet hair out of his face. He was sitting on the lip of the tub, small smile on his face. "We have to go soon."

"No."

"What do you mean, _no_?" Louis laughed, kneeling against the tub. Harry leant against him, closing his eyes and sighing. He wanted to keep this feeling for ever and ever. He didn't want to go outside, wants to stay in this bubble. "Come along, pet."

"Come lay with me, please," Harry begged, giving Louis his big eyes, blinking them softly. "Please, Daddy?"

"You have five minutes to get out of the tub, yes? I'll get your clothes out."

"You're no fun." Louis smiled and kissed his cheek, holding Harry. "How long do we have before we have to go?"

"An hour." Harry wriggles his eyebrows at Louis, but Louis tuts, standing up. "Five minutes."

Harry pouted, petulant as he gathered himself up in four minutes, wrapping a towel around his body. He combed out his wet curls, walking into the bedroom. He didn't want to go anywhere, felt lazy and tired. He pulled his white shirt over his head, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He glanced at the boxers on the bed, making a small face. He didn't like the boxers, was the thing. He liked his lace and frills, but they couldn't risk the chance of someone seeing them.

He was ready to not have a good day. He dressed slowly, petulant and glancing at Louis every few seconds. They'd probably not get any time together at all, and Harry felt sad at the prospect of it. He walked towards the window and peeked outside, only to see the mass of fans downstairs, all little dots with signs. He could hear them, if he strained his ears really hard.

He shut the curtain, and Louis held him flush to him, kissing at his damp hair and cheeks and temple. He smiled a little, but still felt unease.

"Why do we have to? I could fake sick," he protested. He added a cough for extra measure, smiling when Louis laughed. He opened his mouth to say something, stopping short when he heard a knock on the door.

"Time to go, buttercup. Come along."

*

The entire drive to the stadium made Harry feel worse and worse. The fans practically mobbed the car, and Louis sat with Zayn the whole damn time. And Niall and Liam kept laughing and being weird and all Harry wanted to curl up with Louis and go back to the hotel and fuck about, not do this.

And granted, Harry loved the fans, he did. He loved hearing what they meant to them, and answering their weird questions about their lives and he loved them, all so much. He loved how they were so open and carefree and curious and Harry wanted nothing more than to sit and talk to them.

But damn it, it was _hot_. So, _so hot_. He didn't think he'd ever been somewhere so warm and hot and he'd probably have to change later, mostly because it was too hot. He didn't know how the people that lived here dealt with that kind of stifling heat. His shirt felt sticky, and he wanted to find a new shirt and change. God, he was hot.

And the plug he'd crooked into his hole didn't help either. He thought it would, because he'd be sitting and Louis probably wouldn't be able to do anything with him all day. He would probably be too tired to touch Harry, would tell him to go to sleep if he tried messing with him. It was soft and pink and glass, pretty little thing with a flower in the center. It kept him stretched, somewhat, and god, Harry loved it.

They took them to a sort of baseball stadium thing, up in a little office-alcove-locker room sort of thing. And he relaxed into the couch, happy because there was air conditioning and the sun wasn't beating down on him. They lead them to a little office thing, and Harry finally felt at ease because Louis sat with him. Zayn sat on other side, happy and ambivalent.

The interview went mildly well until the questions started leading to "their" relationship.

While Harry has, to a point, come to the realization that he would probably never be public with Louis the way that his string of 'girlfriends' would be. He knew that no one would ever see him and Louis kissing somewhere, and that they'd never see candids of Louis with Harry behind closed doors. And while it made him sad, Harry also knew that the girls who hung around Louis would never see the Louis that Harry saw, would never see him soften and hold Harry and kiss at him and coddle him. People wouldn't.

And Louis, being Louis, when asked about the 'bromance' between them, simply hid behind Harry, laughing. His cheeks flushed, a nervous laughter leaving his lips. They didn't deny or confirm the rumors, but Harry knew the truth, and that should have been enough. He swatted at Louis, trying to get his hand out of the back of his pants. (Cheeky. No shame.)

*

"You have five minutes to meet me in the broom closet down the hall," Louis whispered in Harry's ear. Harry was going to nap. He had his feet up on the couch, arm over his eyes. He was tired and jet lagged and hot, and hungry, and tired. He knew they had about an hour before going outside to do signings and greet the fans and put on a good, happy show for them. An hour. And damn it, he was going to spend that hour asleep.

Or, apparently, mucking about with Louis. Harry gulped, staring at the wall as Louis told him in exact detail (quiet, whispered) what he was planning to do. To anyone else, it probably would have looked innocent, trivial, and friendly. But Harry knew, and he felt himself growing flush at the thought of it.

Louis left, yelling something about trying to find a vending machine. Harry eyed the clock on the wall, gnawing on his bottom lip. He waited for exactly two minutes before standing up and saying he had to find the loo, then quickly raced down the hallway once the door was closed.

Broom closet. Where was the broom closet? Harry spotted a nondescript door and opened it, shutting it quickly. It was dark, but he could still feel Louis there, warm and solid. Harry reached up and held Louis, pressing his lips to Louis' gently.

"Hi, angel," Louis breathed against Harry's mouth, laughing lightly when Harry nipped at his jaw and neck. "We have to be quick, hm?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to be quiet?" he asked. He was about to reach for Harry's belt, but was pleasantly surprised to see that Harry was already sinking to his knees, fingers unbuckling his belt and jeans quickly. His fingers carded through Harry's soft hair, cooing at him quietly. His cheeks flushed under his touch, and Harry knew that, regardless of what those girls felt, or how they held Louis' hand, Louis wanted him. Right?

 _Right_?

Harry nuzzled against Louis' cock, rubbing the tip against his lips. He lapped at the leaking head, moaning softly. His hand grasped the base, keeping him still. He licked slow stripes up and down the sides, tracing the thick, bulging vein with the tip of his pink tongue. He whined a little when Louis' fingers threaded tightly in his hair, nudging him forward.

Harry's mouth wrapped around his hard length, swallowing him down slowly. Harry had, in the beginning, not even been able to take Louis in at all without slobbering and crying because it was too much and too wide and too big, but now, Harry slobbered only a little bit, and could, on rare occasions, actually swallow him completely. (He actually spent quite a lot of time practicing on bananas, though he'd deny it with his dying breath. It made Louis happy, and that made him happy.)

"Oh, fuck," Louis breathed, tugging on Harry's hair. "Look so good on your knees, princess." Harry mumbled something that sounded like thank you as he bobbed his head up and down, licking and lapping at him. "Like that cock, don't you?"

"Mmhm," he hummed, swallowing it back down again slowly. He sucked in his cheeks as he suckled in earnest, holding his hips down. He had something to prove, wanted Louis to know and feel that he was Harry's, that Harry was his pretty little princess and he wanted Louis to love him, not those stupid other girls. And he was sure they were great in their own right, but they kept trying to take Louis away from him and that's why Harry could never and would never get along with them.

"No teeth, angel," he reminded him, huffing when Harry focused on his swollen head. He suckled and moaned, lapping at the swollen head with his tongue. "Pretty baby." He tugged at his hair, pulling him away with a soft smile. His cock popped out of Harry's mouth, standing at attention with pre-come leaking at the tip. Harry licked it away and Louis laughed, thready and hoarse. "What do you want, angel?"

" _Inside_ , please," Harry begged quietly, nosing at Louis' hip with a small sigh. "Please, Daddy? I'll be so good for you, be quiet," he babbles, humming when Louis helps him stand up. He undoes his shoes and pants, kissing Harry with a small sigh. Harry was bare in front of him in the warm, sticky darkness of the room. He clenched around his plug, whining as Louis kissed at his collarbone and neck.

"Up," Louis instructed, and Harry's legs were around his waist in a flash, locking there. He felt his fingers rubbing over the plug and his cheeks flushed, laughing into the soft skin of Harry's neck. "What's this?"

"'S a plug, Daddy," Harry mumbled, whining.

"Why are you wearing a plug?"

"'Cause, like, I t-thought you were - _fuck_ , Daddy - "

" _Language_ , baby girl," he tuts, pressing Harry against the wall. He slips two fingers into Harry's mouth. He sucks on them, leaning his head against the firm wall. With his other hand, Louis slowly drew the plug out of his hole, making Harry cry out. "Shush."

When Louis pulled his fingers out, they were slick with spit, a small bridge connecting his fingertips to his lips. He pressed them against Harry's hole, making him cry out into Louis' shoulder. One finger slipped in easily, while a hand clasped over Harry's mouth.

"Do you understand what _quiet_ means, angel?" Louis asked, murmuring into his ear. "You can't make noise, baby. Do you _want_ someone to find you here, huh? See you with my cock up your little hole?"

"No, Daddy," Harry mumbled, sighing when another finger probed at him. "Ah - mm!"

"Why not?"

"Be-because y- _you're_ the only one who gets to s-see me like this, Daddy," he explained, rocking down into Louis' fingers. The third one brushed his sweet spot, made him leak all over his tummy. Louis rewarded him with a kiss, the hand that was over his mouth now grasping his hip.

When Louis' head grazed his tip, Harry thought he was seeing heaven for the first time. It always felt a little better, always. His head caught on his rim, making Harry's breaths leave him with hitches and moans and cries. When he sunk in fully, he nosed at Harry's hair, cooing soft nothings at him.

"Are you gonna ride Daddy, princess? With your tight little hole?"

"Ah! Mm, _fuck_ , yes," Harry whined, rocking down on him. A firm swat landed against his flesh, making his eyes roll back into his head. "Sorry, _mm_ ," he apologized, tone quiet and muted. He bit down on his bottom lip hard, meeting Louis' thrusts.

Sex with Louis could be many things. During the tour, it was rushed and fast, impatient and brutal, made Harry feel like he was split in half and could never be stitched back together. At home, it was slow and languid, like molasses, the closest to making love that Harry ever got. But moments like this? These moments were a combination of both, desperation mingled with need and want. Harry let Louis fuck him into the wall, whining softly and keeping his moans down as much as he could while Louis' hands pinned him to the wall. His thighs slapped against Harry's hips, slick with sweat and spit and everything else. Harry's nails dug into Louis' shoulders, keeping him there. As though Louis would go anywhere else - as though he could bring himself to leave Harry when he was like this.

" _Say it_ , please," Harry begged, looking at Louis pleadingly. "Please."

Sometimes, Harry needed validation. He needed to know that his feelings were mutual, that he wasn't crazy and wasn't imagining their bond. Sometimes Harry needed to know that Louis was crazy about him too, that he wanted Harry with the same intensity that Harry wanted him.

"You're mine, princess. All mine. Do you know how much I love you? You have no idea, do you? We're eternal, you and me," he promised, kissing Harry's forehead. "Can anyone get in-between us?"

" _No_ ," he answered, shaking his head.

His cock was rubbing between their bodies, making Harry whine and hiss and pant because, oh, oh, oh, it felt so amazing and good. And Harry felt it, the friction, the beautiful, amazing friction. He was so close. He wished they could take their time, but they'd already been gone for so long and people would be looking for them soon.

"Daddy? Please, _please_ ," he begged, rocking up and down and whining as Louis pressed against his prostrate over and over and over again. He was dizzy and sensitive, moaning into Louis' mouth. His teeth grazed against Harry's bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth.

"You want to come, baby?" Louis cooed at him. Harry could barely speak, nodding. Louis moved even faster, holding Harry close. "Wanna be a good boy? Make a mess for me, angel."

When Harry came, Louis actually had to clasp a hand over his mouth tightly because he screamed, crying and thrashing between his body and the wall. He milked Louis' cock inside him when Louis' came, wriggling and moaning sleepily. His heart pumped and beat wildly, made Harry want to keep him inside him forever. He sighed, rubbing their noses together.

"Good girl, baby. Good," he praised, brushing Harry's hair out of his face. "Do you want your plug?" he asked, rubbing Harry's flush, hot cheek.

"Yes, please."

*

Throughout the day, Louis did little things. He fixed Harry's sleeves during the interview. (Harry actually changed his shirt because it was too hot and sweaty and smelled like come, and he didn't have anyway to explain the comestains on him.) He stared at Harry, poked at him, danced with him. Harry was so happy.

During the signings, Harry was in a daze. He was smiley, giggling at everything, feeling Louis' touch even though they weren't physically connected at the moment. He could barely shift around without feeling Louis' come move inside him, plug digging into him.

Louis' arms wrapped around Harry's shoulders in a way that probably seemed friendly had it not been for the way he'd been acting all day.

They were as close to a couple as they had ever been publicly that day, and oh, Harry felt so beautiful. Louis would give Harry his smile. No one else got that smile from Louis, no one else made Louis prop his head up and look at them with the measure of adoration that Harry did. He loved this. He was so happy, felt so much better about being there. Louis always knew how to make him feel better was the thing, always, always, always took care of him.

*

Harry was pinned to the bed, laughing underneath Louis' touch. Louis was snuggling into him, straddling him to the bed. Harry was giggling and kicking underneath him, wriggling underneath Louis' fingers. He was kissing his neck and nipping at him, marking his tummy and collarbone in places he knew no one would see.

"Do you like her?" Harry asked quietly. Louis glanced up at Harry, frowning slightly.

"Who?"

"El," Harry murmured, looking away from Louis. Louis crawled up to him, face into his neck. Louis' hands clasped Harry's, making Harry's cheeks flush. "I mean, if you like her, like - "

"Harry, who am I with right now?"

"With me," he said, glancing at him. Louis slapped sloppy kisses on his neck and cheeks and lips, tugging a smile from him. "You know I love you."

"I love you more, peaches."


End file.
